


Day 30: Sci-fi/Cyberpunk

by SaiTheWriter



Series: Turkstober2020 [27]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: M/M, Outer Space, Rufus Shinra is a Turk fuck off, Science Fiction, Star Trek AU if you squint, Turks (Compilation of FFVII), Turkstober (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaiTheWriter/pseuds/SaiTheWriter
Summary: Just another day in space.
Relationships: Reno/Roche (Compilation of FFVII), Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: Turkstober2020 [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957075
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 30: Sci-fi/Cyberpunk

**Author's Note:**

> Late and a little boring, I don't do sci-fi well.

“Captain, your presence is respectfully requested on the bridge.” The somewhat tinny voice tugged Rufus out of his stupor, gaze settled almost balefully on the chess set laying innocently on his quarters’ table. Thinning his lips, the  **platinum** blond pushed back his seat and moved to stand, brushing unseen dust from his uniform. “On my way, thank you Jenny.”

The computer U.I. beeped her acknowledgement and his quarters went abruptly back to its silence, the only sound for now the quiet music from his bedroom. He’d left an album on repeat again, blast it. A moment was spent moving to his darkened room to slide on his shoes and cancel the music, adjusting himself in the mirror a last time. It was a late hour, but not late enough that he didn’t care to check for out of place hairs. 

His feet took him through his compartment door and out into the hall, passing by other staterooms on his way up to the bridge. Night shift, such as it was, seemed to be the more lax group, he had no qualms with showing up in casual dress. It was far past the hour for mid rats, and no doubt most were drowsily dreaming of a fresh plate of breakfast and a shower before hitting their racks.

Of course, the first one to notice him was the perky blonde Nav, her head jerking up from the star chart settled currently on the holo map. “Captain on deck.” It wasn’t a sharp note, but protocol demanded it, and almost dozily the officers and enlisted began to rouse from their seats and stand. All save one. Rufus eyed the helm, and the redhead that made no move to stand at attention at her call. “Carry on.” He uttered; his own smirk mirroring Reno’s sleepy one.

“Sir. Apologies for waking you.” Ah, the reason for his rousing, from thoughts rather than bed. His attention shifted to his executive officer, their shifts minutely overlapping as it went on the bridge. Tseng nodded at him, gesturing him towards the back corner where Nav normally held their charting conferences. “Sir, we’ve received a hail from command, with a…somewhat pressing mission request.” His hair shifted in a long curtain as he tilted his head to show some form of misgivings for the ‘request’, the points of his ears cutting through the heavy swatches like two pale beacons in the night.

“A request?” That in and of itself was strange. Normally, his father took great delight in bossing him around. But a request? “Out with it, if Command is calling for us so far out, it must have been important.” They were not quite a squadron leading ship, but then again, he’d never request that sort of role for himself. No. They worked on delegations to newly met civilizations, for the most part, with a small bit of covert operations on the side. Who better to police dissatisfaction than an innocent little political asylum vessel?

“Headquarters has detailed a system a few days out via hyper drive under distress. There’s a flu ravaging their planets, one that hasn’t been around for several generations as their ambassador put it. They were at war with a neighboring system and as such, decided to put their resources towards defense instead of working on a cure once it died down in their history.They prospered afterward and became the largest presence in the area. Now it’s back and the population has suffered near an eighth of a loss.” Tseng wasn’t one to show emotion, but the thinning of his lips showed Rufus all he needed to know.

“And just what are they proposing we do? We’re not the mother science vessel, and our doctor…is currently an empty slot.” Even Tseng had a tiny wrinkle of derision slide over his brow, though it was gone quick as a blink. Their last doctor had been a creepy man, one no one liked to talk about and was more than happy to have away. They had a few corpsmen, but the slot needed to be filled damned soon else they wouldn’t be able to return to their second contact voyage in complete. As it was, they were stuck circling known systems and working with non-hostiles with negotiations. Still important, but quite boring.

“Were we willing, procure a sample of the virus for delivery to our science team.” Tseng responded, tilting his head up as their helmsman bucked up in a loud laugh, his cybernetic counterpart staring on disapprovingly from behind his visor before tilting back to the leehelm console to make an adjustment. “As you said, we are not equipped, but we’re the nearest of our fleet, and the fastest vessel. The urgency was surprising, but clear. These Cetra are apparently key in this end of the galaxy to our foothold.”

And there it was. Shinra wasn’t worried about the people at all, it was merely a means to an end. Idly, he found himself wondering just what these people held that his father coveted dearly enough to try for actual diplomacy.

“Hn. Get me anything you can on these people. And anything you can’t. Get Rui on it if you have to, she owes me a favour and I know she gets bored and likes a challenge.” Shelke was good at what she did, n doubt something would turn up. “Tseng..what do you recommend?” His advice was always insightful, and more often than not, completely unbiased.

“This is...unprecedented.” He finally murmured, chewing on the request itself. “We are in a unique position, but not a good one. These people need help, and our science division is advanced enough that perhaps we can give them the headway they need to help with a vaccine. But, that also means we’re required to go in for a hand off of a virus we don’t understand well enough to know how it will affect other physiologies.”

And wasn’t that just what he’d expected from the man? “It’s a hard choice, but it’s also not mine. We’ll have an officer’s assembly after turnover and departmental quarters, have it announced during the morning reveille. I want a general consensus with the rest of the wardroom to get a feel what we’re thinking. It’s not just their lives on the line if we move to accept. Anything else?   
  
Tseng merely shook his head, glancing towards the side and the raised heads around them. No doubt the bridge would be alive with activity as soon as he disappeared.

“You have the Conn.” Rufus murmured, ducking his head and slipping away to ponder. Just what was his father upto, trying to offer him such a thinly veiled dangerous mission? And as a request to boot, knowing how the missions board would look upon such an idea. What was it about these Cetra? He huffed out a low note, turning the corner and nearly colliding with a hurrying body.

“Dammit.” A sharp complaint had him raising his brows as his gaze settled on their most infamous engineering officer. Roche was, as per usual when underway, dressed down. The top of his uniform was bloused down, arms messily tied together near the hem of his belt strap, shirt now stained with an ever widening blot of coffee from a tall thermos. “Aw, sorry sir. Wanted to make it to the bridge before shift change.”

Was it really that late? Well, early, he supposed, pressing out a huffed laugh at his fluffy hair. A bun was required for long hair in uniform but...not required while deployed, and underway. That was up to the captain’s prerogative. And honestly, if he’d tried to press him to do so, he might have had a mutiny on his hands. “You’re not on the bridge next shift.” The blond murmured, recalling vaguely the setup. No, he was on his own swing shift, and Roche’s eyes widened at being caught out. 

“Uh-”

“If you disturb my moored cabin with Reno one more time, I will let Dark have your stateroom for a week.” Rufus declared, satisfaction curling in his gut when the man blanched. 

“Ah, noted sir. Not that we were. I was just bringing ‘im coffee to grease his wheels, you know?”

“I do. And I don’t want to.” It was always fun to toy with the man, he seemed so bawdy and brash around the others, but something about his own often cool exterior seemed to chill his heels in his presence.

He beat a hasty retreat, disappearing around the curve of the hall Rufus had only just rounded, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The trip back to his quarters was silent after. Not many were up that didn’t need to be at this hour. He’d be on for the swing watch, but that was merely to attend to matters on the morning shift. Another sleepless night accomplished.

His door opened with a near silent hush of displaced air, leading him into the dim interior. Dark’s head tipped up, blinking sleepy eyes at Rufus’ entry. His first friend, and an alien to boot. Reaching out, Rufus idly budded along the ears, cheered by the soft rumble he received in return. “Hello Dark, did you rest at all? I didn’t keep you up with my pacing, did I?” A slow yawn was his only answer, and Rufus took it for a win, dropping back down into his chair to glance at the hour.

Perhaps a half hour before reveille. It was more than enough time to gather himself, maybe a quick shower before hitting the wardroom for what would probably be a breakfast meeting, go over the logs Tseng might be able to come up with before then. 

Logs. Shit, he’d completely forgotten last night. 

“J.E.N.O.V.A.” 

“Yes Captain?” His U.I. responded immediately, ever present, ever ready.

“Please forward all video logs of Storage Room Delta Victor 12 from last night to my personal tablet and delete the initials.” It wasn’t unheard of for such moments to occur, especially two years into a long trip. So long as it didn’t harm interpersonal relations, Rufus tended to look away from his crew’s, and his crew was fairly good at maintaining decorum. However… a certain Lieutenant Commander knew exactly what Rufus liked, and what he liked was the idea of being caught.

“At once, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Thank you, Jenny, and yes.” Tilting back into his chair, Rufus let his eyes rest, clearing his throat for that one last bit of business he needed to manage before starting the day. 

_ “Captain’s Log: Stardate…” _

  
  



End file.
